Kitty Kloset...

New York is filled with activities but meeting people here, like anywhere, is hard. New Yorkers are friendly and I've had many chats with strangers in the park, on the train, in cafes, but I haven't made any friends yet. Granted, I haven't been here long but I would like to meet some people who have shared interests.

I was chatting with a girlfriend about this and she suggested I do some volunteering and get involved with something. She said, "Find something that isn't repulsive to you and do it for a couple hours a week."

Good advice...so I took it.

I went to my resources for everything in New York; Craigslist. A lot of people hate Craigslist but it has been a good place for me....heck, I've been on job interviews, dates, found my writing group, found my apartment and even a new juicer (although I hate to add another to my scattered collection) all through Craigslist. Why not find my volunteering there too?

There are so many organizations where people need help and I considered several of them at The Lincoln Center, The Red Cross, Literacy Program, all sounded good but a bit daunting to me. Then I saw an ad for cat volunteers at a no-kill kitty shelter. This was sounding like something I could do, so I replied.

The non-profit organization is called Anjellicle Cats and is based out of Hell's Kitchen (which is right near the theater district.) Since this is a no-kill shelter, volunteers will go to kill shelters and rescue cats and kittens that are about to be put to death...often choosing the sick ones who aren't out in front of people and don't get adopted. Most of the sick kitties just have colds and that's how they come to us...yes, I am one of them now.

The kennel that I am volunteering at is in the back of a small pet shop on 49th street between 8th and 9th street. It takes me about 45 minutes to get there by subway...but that's how long it takes me to get just about everywhere because I'm living off a main line. The train I live near doesn't go into the city so it is always two trains just to get out of Brooklyn. I've gotten to know how the subways work pretty well for such a short period of time in New York.

This kitty shelter is more like a closet. New York is an expensive place to live and that is true for kitties as well as humans so I shouldn't have been surprised when I saw that the "shelter" was small. Not just small, but really, really tiny. It is about as big as an average bathroom. There are five cage where kitties who don't get along with others or who are sick are kept. Also the kittens are put in cages so they don't get stuck behind many of the small spaces in the tiny room.

Small is one thing, but is ridiculous. There are about fifteen to twenty cats living in this space. Those who aren't in cages are on the floor, on top of litter boxes, on top of storage bins, above the cages, underneath the cages...everywhere you look there is another cat. There are cats everywhere all craving attention and food, water, clean litter because no matter how often you change them, the kitties crave more.

When the door opens ten cats rush the door, some escaping into the pet shop which is the forbidden zone. There is a fat, healthy, happy pet shop cat and he has rule over the space which seems gigantic compared to where the kitties live. The shop owners are very stern about keeping the cats in the closet so the first task at hand is herding the cats back into the closet. Keep in mind these are not fat, suburban cats. These are New York City sleek city cats...skinny, long and limber. They are fast. But they listen too and I've found talking to them really helps them calm down and settle so I can give them what they want; clean water, fresh food and litter.

Next to the little room there is a tiny bathroom and my first shift alone, I let the cats run into the bathroom and sit on the cool tile floor while I swept out the cages and scooped dirty litter. I think they remember that, although I got busted big time by the pet shop boys. I was happy to take the heat for the kitties.

This week I kept the kitties in the closet and was dumping water dishes with small bits of kibble into the toilet before washing and refilling. As I did this, a rat swam up through the toilet pipes and out of the toilet to eat the food I was dumping. I screamed dropping the metal dishes and ran into the pet store to tell the guys and get help. When the three of us returned to the bathroom the rat was gone, hopefully back the way he came and the guys started flushing the toilets and opened the back of the tank to see if it was living there, but he was gone.

This experience showed me my ultimate NYC fear... a rat coming up through the toilet. I am lucky where I am able to manifest my fears almost immediately so to get them out of the way... at least that is how I am choosing to look at this situation. I have to look at it that way or else I'll make myself sick with worry and fear and I've got not time for that.

The pet shop guys kept asking me if I was sure I saw a rat. Oh yeah. I was sure. I've seen rats in the subways since I've moved here and I definitely know the difference between a rat and a mouse. This was no mouse. The experience left me shake and questioning if I'd picked the right volunteering opportunity for me. I mean, I didn't get any good loving time with the pussycats because there is too much to be done and the room is so tiny that I have a hard time breathing what with all the fur and fluff and dander everywhere. I was questioning if this was the right gig for me after the first time I went...the second time I had a rat encounter and I wondered again if I was doing the right thing.

A bit part of me feels like I am working off a karmic debt to Sing and Little Man, both of my cats who have run away. Naturally, I feel responsible for their actions. They were my responsibility and I was their owner. I made an agreement to care for these animals and I didn't do a very good job of it. It seems fair that I take care of these unwanted cats, scoop their poop, clean up their fur balls, wash out their water dishes, sweep the stray litter....

But is this what God has in store for me? Am I to be the kitties keepers? Perhaps I had a karmic agreement with Sing and Little Man and part of this arrangement was that they were to leave me. I don't know. What I do know is that if you are ever in need of using a bathroom and you are in Hell's Kitchen on 49th street between 8th and 9th, don't ask to use the toilet at Spoiled Brats Pet Shop. They would probably let you use it but you'll have to share the camode with some big city rats.

I wonder if volunteers are still needed at Lincoln Center?

So much love,
All the way from over here...
Linda